


hooks in your heart

by bluetint



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Breeding, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, The Author Regrets Everything, i am dropping hints that there is breeding and mpreg in this fic, or does she, or hints of both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetint/pseuds/bluetint
Summary: I cracked several jokes at jaebs expense and I paid for it in the form of writing this fic





	hooks in your heart

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a harmless joke "abo au where every time jaebum goes into heat, he brings home a cat" but then it escalated quickly.
> 
> is this an mpreg fic? is this a breeding kink fic? no one knows, not even the author.
> 
> i would like to thank [mel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee/profile) who is an enabler and part of the reason why this fic exists. ❤
> 
> heed the tags. if mpreghetti isn't your thing, yeet, stage right.

\---

Breeding feels like a lot like drinking tea.

His body is the cup, heated by the boiling brew poured into it. The cup is hot to touch, but cools down gradually as the tea is consumed, leaving only the dregs swimming in residual liquid. 

It’s a strange way to think about it but metaphors were never his strong suit.

That’s how he feels at the end of it. Empty, used and longing to be filled again but with something else.

Mark breathes against the side of his neck, trying to calm down. The knot has gone down, having served its purpose. He feels full; like a cup that’s been filled to the brim and will be drained any minute.

Mark shifts and his addled brain kicks him into action. He puts his legs around him; locking his mate in place.

“Ssshhhh baby, it’s okay.” 

Comforting sounds against his flushed skin. Lips pressed softly against his temple. A hand carding through his matted hair. 

“I’ll stay.”

Hands caress his sides in soothing motions. Palms rest on his stomach, fingertips lightly digging in. Jaebum places his hands over Mark’s, to keep them there.

To keep a part of him inside a place that’ll never grow anything.

\---

Sex between them has always been gratifying; be it inside or outside of heat. But lately, he’s been feeling bereft at the end of his cycles.

Jaebum doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t know how to.

How do you put something into words when it doesn’t even make sense inside your head?

Breakfast is a quiet affair. Goodbye kisses are exchanged at the door as they head to their separate ways. Promises are thrown over shoulders about having dinner together.

Work goes as usual, nothing new. Like the emptiness inside of him. It’s not an all-encompassing emptiness; just in the area between his chest and waist. He tries not to think too much about it. Refuses to think about it. He buries himself in spreadsheets and resurfaces when it’s time to go home.

The animal shelter is somewhere between their house and his place of work. The display was delightful; hand-drawn cutouts of animals surrounded by expertly placed glitter shapes.

Often, he stopped a safe distance away and observed, for he knew if he went in, he would not be going home empty handed. But today it’s different. His self control is as brittle as he feels right now. 

He’s about to turn and go on his way, like he always does, when a child’s loud shout attracts his attention. A couple is coming out of the store, holding onto a child who is holding a spotted kitten to her chest.

His midriff aches with a longing so intense that he doesn’t even realize he has moved until he comes to and finds himself standing before a line of cages. Felines, of all sizes and breeds, occupied the steel boxes. Most continued to sleep, some groomed themselves lazily. A few looked to Jaebum with inquisitive but hopeful eyes. His heart hurt as much as his stomach now.

Post heat, an omega’s emotions are all over the place. Sometimes leading to spur of the moment decisions. That’s the only explanation he can come up with for what happens next.

\---

“You’re late. Is everything okay - oh.” A question mark appears over his mate’s head, white and fluffy like Jaebum’s insides.

The Siamese cat is curled up in his arms like she belongs there. Her little form purrs, and he can feel it against his heart. His head feels clear. Clearer than it’s been in days. When he looks up at Mark, he’s smiling so wide his face hurts. Mark is quick to return the smile, even quicker to pull him into a hug, careful not to disturb the cat.

They name her Nora.

\---

It becomes A Thing. Except it’s not like the other thing. Well, Thing One and Thing Two are related, like dependent variables. But he wouldn’t focus too much on that; the little one needed all of it.

For the first time in forever, the void inside him wasn’t yawning or stretching its maw open to remind him of its presence. It had gone quiet; asleep like the bundle in his arms. 

Nora grows into a beautiful cat. She’s quiet, like her fathers, as in plural, because Mark loves her as much as Jaebum. 

But Jaebum loves her a little more.

\---

Heat comes and goes again. Jaebum welcomes it, because if there’s anything he loves more than raising a cat, it’s being close to his husband in the most intimate of ways. 

Jaebum’s a mess at the end of it. He always is. But the emptiness isn’t there this time. Nor does he panic when Mark pulls out. He’s pliant when he’s getting cleaned up and cuddles Mark, albeit a tad aggressively.

“Wow, someone’s in a good mood,” mumbles Mark. Jaebum purrs, or tries to, anyway. 

Mark’s laugh is like music to his ears.

\---

The void visits but this time he’s prepared for it.

Jaebum knows what to do.

The girl at the counter greets him jovially. They chat. He shows her pictures of Nora. She squeals. 

They’re disturbed by a racket at coming from the back. The girl goes to investigate. Jaebum follows.

“He’s a bit of a handful,” the girl explains to him. 

He notices she has wrapped towels around her arms. The black cat, a stray from the looks of it, hisses and tries to free itself from her grip.

“He’s been here for a month.” Jaebum hadn’t come here since he got Nora. 

“No one will take him.” The girl flinches as the cat thrashes around, trying to protect herself from its sharp claws.

The sound of the void drowns out all reasoning and he hears himself say. “I’ll take him.”

\---

The disinfectant stings and he lets out a whimper. Mark frowns but he doesn’t stop swiping at the painful looking scratches that run from his wrist to his knuckles. 

Mark hadn’t said anything when Jaebum brought the cat home. He accepted it, just like he’d accepted Nora. 

However, his stance changed when he noticed the red lines on Jaebum’s arms. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.” The scratches on his arms were minor, and weren’t a cause for concern. But the ones on his arms, which Jaebum had been hiding under long sleeves, were.

“It’s nothing, they don’t even hurt - _ow_.” Mark had pressed down into one of the deeper cuts, the alcohol making them burn. His eyes water. 

“You were saying?”

A tear slips down his cheek.

“Just give him a chance. He’s neutered. Nora won’t even get pregnant. The shelter said to give him time. _Please_ , Mark.” Jaebum knows he’s babbling but he can’t bring himself to care. 

Mark chews on his lower lip thoughtfully. The lines on his forehead stay wrinkled the whole time he bandages Jaebum’s injuries. 

Mark stands up with a sigh, first aid box in his hands. He’s skinny and an inch or two shorter than Jaebum. But he feels tall and big right now, looking down as he battles between choosing what’s good for his omega and his omega’s wishes.

“Fine.”

Jaebum beams. 

“But three strikes.”

“Okay.”

“Three strikes and he’s out.”

\---

Kunta, as he’s been named, manages to turn over a new leaf. It’s not easy. 

They escape the third strike by a hair's breadth.

However, there’s a new problem at hand. Thing Two, which is actually Jaebum’s maternal instincts to raise a life form but he refuses to acknowledge it for what it is, officially turns into a thing when he brings home a white fluffy Persian.

His husband is not amused.

“Jaebum.”

Jaebum makes a beseeching noise. 

Mark makes an exasperated noise.

“Jaebum,” he tries again.

“B-but, it’s so cute. Look at it.” 

And look at it he does. The kitten is puny and breakable. It’s fragile in the way he kind of wants to squish and protect it. 

Similar to the sentiment he holds towards the person holding it. 

“W-want to touch?” Jaebum’s stumbling over his words, voice going deep. He only ever does that when he’s nervous or in distress. 

Mark doesn’t like being the cause of Jaebum’s discomfort.

This one barely fits into the cup of Jaebum’s hands. He lightly touches the tip of its nose with a finger. It sniffles, but it doesn’t wake up.

Mark sighs, defeated. 

Jaebum smiles, victorious.

\---

Nora blinks languidly.

Once is chance.

Kunta snoozes on the kitchen island. 

Twice is coincidence.

Odd lays sprawled on the kitchen floor like a parenthesis mark.

Third is a pattern.

Cake, their new addition, is eying the slumbering white cat.

Fourth officially counts as a cause for concern.

This is why he’s having this conversation with his best friend over lunch while Jaebum is over at Jinyoung’s.

“I don’t understand.”

Jackson hums.

“Does he want kids? Is this his way of telling me he wants children? Should we have children?”

He hums some more.

“It’s strange. I mean, he never showed any particular inclination for them before I mean, he gets along with the girls really well?”

The humming persists.

“Jackson.”

The moist sounds of Jackson mixing the black bean noodles serves as the background for his jumbled thoughts. Between worrying about Jaebum’s newfound obsession with adopting felines and helping him take care of said felines, there hasn’t been time to talk about why there are felines.

The overuse and abundance of felines makes his head hurt. The sound of Jackson chewing thoughtfully does not help.

“Here’s a thing you maybe haven’t considered.”

“What?”

“Actually talking to him about it.”

Mark ponders. 

Jackson chews.

Cake pounces.

\---

He’s worn a hole in their carpet with all the pacing he’s done over the weekend. Maybe he’s being a tad dramatic. But on the other hand, he’s allowed to be a little worked up over this.

They’ve been mated for a good while. Couples who have been mated as long as they have are usually expecting their third child. 

Well, the ones who could reproduce anyway.

As a last resort, he’d turned to Jinyoung. The uncomfortable feeling of going behind his partner’s back niggles at him. The sensation is similar to having a cat in your face, whiskers tickling at your nose. 

Mark doesn’t like it.

Jinyoung had been as forthcoming as his partner, Jackson. The alpha had listened to him patiently. Well, Mark assumed it had been patient. He couldn’t tell well over the phone.

A text message arrived shortly after he hung up.

_Communication is key._

There was a key emoji.

Emojis brooked no further discussion.

Hence here he was, debating how to broach the subject. The cats, sitting next to each other, observe him. The way their heads move in sync is eerie yet endearing.

Heavy footsteps sound on the other side of the door. Mark feels like a creepy stalker, listening for his husband’s footsteps with his head cocked to the side.

The door swings open to reveal a feverish omega on the verge of passing out and all thoughts flee from his mind as he reaches forward to catch his mate.

The Talk would have to wait.

\---

If Mark turned into an aggravated feline when he was sick, Jaebum turned into a clingy canine.

They both were uncomfortable. 

Jaebum on account of the fever. 

Mark on account of Jaebum’s hot yet clammy skin. 

Yet they both clung to each other like limpets.

They’ve been in bed since yesterday and it shows. The sheets are rumpled and definitely smell. 

Jaebum’s temperature had gone down considerably but he was still throwing up. After dry-heaving into the bucket placed next to the bed, he’d passed out.

The pungent aroma of tomato soup greets him as he enters the kitchen. The cats gather around him, nosing at his hands as he fills their bowls. Kunta stays at the back, scrutinizing him intensely. 

“Your other dad’s sick.” The other cats had taken to Mark like fish to water but the ebony tomcat treated him with suspicion. 

They’d had a rocky start after all. 

But Mark was all for second chances.

“Come on,” he coaxes, sliding the dish towards Kunta. 

Kunta responds by turning his back on him and hopping on to the kitchen island. 

“Kunta.” 

Cats respond to tone. He’s trying to be firm but Kunta isn’t having it, nosing and pawing at the pocket of Jaebum’s bag. It had been left at the table and had stayed there since yesterday.

Kunta keeps pawing at it. Mark tsks and pushes him away. Kunta mrows and continues to paw at one of the pockets. The claws scrape at the leather and Mark flicks Kunta on the nose.

The cat, stubborn like the father standing before him, sits back and fixes Mark with an intense stare. 

Mark hesitantly reaches for the pocket. They’ve been married for years. Everything about them is known to each other. Yet he feels like an intruder as the pocket falls open a pair of baby booties fall out. 

Oh.

A tiny seed of doubt forms.

The sound of Jaebum retching startles him. The booties drop to the floor. Blue and white with fishes on them. 

With difficulty, he tears away from the spot and stumbles into the bedroom. Jaebum is bent over the bucket, vomiting. There hadn’t been much to expel in the first place. 

“The soup stinks,” he manages in a weak voice before throwing up some more.

The fever.

The booties.

The sensitivity to smell.

The doubt intensifies.

\---

The sound of Jaebum's breathless laughter echoes through the bedroom. Mark laughs, hopelessly charmed as Jaebum tries to roll them over. 

"Mark," he whines. 

"Yes?" He teases. 

It had been a while since they'd had sex outside of heat. Preoccupied with work and other matters. And with the seed of doubt which grown into a sprawling weed, its tendrils going all over the place often disrupting his train of thought.

"I wanna be on top." Jaebum tries again. Mark stays put. His dick is nestled snugly inside. He doesn't want to move. 

"What's the magic word?" 

Jaebum blinks before morphing his expression into one of faux thought. "Hyung?" 

Mark groans. 

Jaebum giggles, wiggling his hips. 

_"Hyung."_ He says again this time with more emphasis on the ending consonants. Mark lets up. Jaebum crows, flipping them both over. 

Hands reach for each other as Jaebum seats himself on top of him. One hand grips Mark's shoulder. The other, his hand. They move as one. 

They are one. 

The moonlight creeping into the room illuminates the lithe form atop him. A pale white band of light falls across his stomach in a wide strip, highlighting a bump that hadn’t been there before.

His brain stops then restarts, scrambling to come up with a logical explanation.

It's winter. Snacks and other delights are being consumed with little thought about the consequences. They'd had a big dinner earlier. The bump was nothing more than a food baby. It was inconsequential.

Or was it? The weed rears it ugly head again, letting loose an excited hiss. 

An image of his mate, blushy cheeked and rounded with child, flashes into his mind. 

Mark doesn't even realize he's cumming. 

“Oh.” Jaebum's mouth falls open in surprise. 

Oh, indeed. 

\---

The chilliness of the marble can be felt through the wool slippers. Bleary-eyed, he pads into the kitchen wiggling his toes to keep warm. And stops short at the sight before him. 

The red hoodie was a family favorite. Mark wore it on lazy days. The cats snuggled into it wherever they happened across it. Jaebum wore it to bed every other night.

Odd is cradled into the crook of his arm. Nora was pressed up against his thigh, purring with abandon as Jaebum stroked her stomach. Kunta peered at him from arm of the sofa. 

His eyes zero in on Jaebum’s hand, resting innocuously on his stomach. Fingers curled loosely over where the fabric bunched. The serene smile with the faraway dreamy look. A lock of hair falls over one eye. Jaebum looks... 

The weed starts whispering. 

"Jaebum." His voice rings out, drowning out the sound in his head. 

Jaebum turns, face breaking into a gentle smile.

“Yes?”

Mark exhales slowly. 

"Come back to bed." 

\---

All thorough planning involving carefully broaching the topic had gone out the window after he'd seen Jaebum gazing wistfully at the baby items in the department store. The ride back home had been… hellish to say the least. His tongue hurt from where he’d bitten it to keep himself from popping the question right then and there.

No, he waits until they’ve had dinner. Jaebum wolfs down his share as Mark plays around with his. 

Along with The Thing hanging over them, there’s also the scent of Jaebum lingering in the air. Strawberries on the vine; sweet but earthy and airy.

Another heat would mean - 

Jaebum’s talking. He’s saying something. Words. But Mark can’t hear him. The question finally escapes him.

“Are you pregnant?”

Words he'd heard whispered in school corridors. In hospitals. In family gatherings where the newlywed couple were the target of laser focus. In soap operas where impregnation was a major plot device prioritized over the others.

Never did he think he'd be saying them to his husband who’s suddenly gone mute and turned pale. 

The silence is deafening.

Jaebum drops the cup he’s holding. 

The sound of porcelain shattering knocks them both out of their stupor. They bend down to pick up the pieces at the same time, bumping heads and cursing.

One of Mark hands fumble over a broken piece, skin slicing open over a particularly sharp curve. Jaebum shouts, moving away to get the first aid but Mark catches him by the shoulder.

He repeats the question. Enunciates each word.

Jaebum stares at him. The look on his face has too many emotions. 

The wretched creeper is laughing; the sound grates on his nerves keeping him from deciphering.

“I’m not.” 

The words do not bring him the relief he was expecting.

“Then why were you looking at the green romper in the children’s section?”

Jaebum opens his mouth. Closes it again.

Then he bursts into tears.

Marks heart moves from his chest cavity to his throat. 

Uncaring of his bleeding hand, he pushes away the shards and pulls Jaebum close.

The words spill out of Jaebum like a water jug being knocked over. Words soak into his skin, drenching him with the cocktail of emotions that have been swirling around in his head for so long.

Jaebum tells him everything. The pain of not being able to grow a part of them together. The hollow feeling in his stomach. The warm feeling of cradling a delicate form securely in his arms. The fulfillment of nurturing a life form and watching it flourish. 

He bares his soul.

With each word, Jaebum grows smaller and smaller, until he’s curled up into a tight ball under Mark’s chin. Tears soak the front of his shirt. 

His own eyes sting with salt.

Mark’s heart hurts.

“I just wanted something that was ours.”

It breaks.

\---

He feels empty.

But it’s the cathartic kind of emptiness.

After they’d both cried it out of their systems and calmed down, they talked. 

Communication really was the key. Oh the heartbreak they could have avoided had they just, talked. 

Jaebum laughs, weak and watery. “We really should do more of that.” 

His nose is red, his face is blotchy and his eyes are swollen to the point they’ve turned into crescents. But to Mark, he’s the most beautiful thing ever. Tenderly, he presses a kiss to the corner of his eyes. Brushes the moles there reverently with his lips.

“We should.”

They would.

\---

“Mark?” Jaebum’s voice is uncertain as he reaches out in front of him. Mark had put a blindfold on him soon as they’d finished eating the cake. Jaebum wasn’t much for celebrating birthdays but Mark was. He wanted to express his gratitude for his mate’s birth.

Mark tiptoes, quiet as a cat burglar.

“Where are you?” 

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.

“Can I take it off now?”

One foot in front of the other until he’s where he wants to be.

“I’m taking it off.” 

Jaebum pulls down the blindfold, a frown on his face which turns into a bewildered look when he sees the basket in Mark’s hands.

“Wha-”

“Open it.”

The suspicious look on his husband face makes him want to laugh but he holds it in. 

He holds out the basket.

Hesitantly, Jaebum reaches for the lid. Lifts it up. Lets it drop back with an exclamation of surprise.

Eyes blink rapidly. Lips move but don’t make a sound. Jaebum is thrown.

Mark waits.

Jaebum lifts the lid to reveal a charcoal grey ball with ears dipped in black ink. 

_“O-oh.”_

Jaebum bursts into tears again. 

This time, it makes Mark’s heart swell.

\---

“But why?” Jaebum asks.

The cat is cradled loosely Jaebum’s arms, curled up on his stomach. The rest have gathered around him, sniffing curiously at their new companion.

“You like him?” Nora responds by licking a long stripe on the kitten’s forehead. It startles awake, taking everyone in with inquisitive blue eyes. 

Mark had actually aimed the question at Jaebum but Nora had taken it as a request for her input. They both laugh. Jaebum squeezes Mark’s hand and kisses him on the cheek shyly.

“I _love_ him.”

Mark kisses him on the mouth. They make out softly and slowly, holding hands. 

“In front of the baby?” Mark asks between kisses.

“He’ll get used to it like the rest,” Jaebum murmurs against his lips.

“We’re keeping him?” 

The ink on the adoption papers is still wet but it gleams with promise.

“He’s ours.”

\---

**Author's Note:**

> never will i ever crack another baby fever joke again. 
> 
> or will i?
> 
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/molladoe) and [cc!](https://curiouscat.me/hoesides)


End file.
